The Same Things
by M. the Inspector
Summary: Several years after First Class, the school needs help and Magneto offers it.  Erik and Charles plan to work together again, but some things have changed.
1. Chapter 1

**So this was initially a one-shot in my _Thought of That _series, but it seems to be growing into its own whole story. So, here it is.**

**Takes place a couple of years after First Class.**

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><p>They're in a cemetery. A normal, ordinary, packed cemetery because, after serious thought, Charles doesn't think it's a good idea to start a separate cemetery for mutants somewhere. That will only suggest to the kids that more will die.<p>

Besides, George loved fitting in, loved humans, loved _normal_… he would have wanted it this way.

While the coffin is being lowered Charles hears a soft _pop_ from the trees beyond the cemetery. As if a flashbulb is going off.

But he knows immediately it's not a flashbulb.

None of the new kids will know what the sound means, but he glances to Hank and sees him sniffing the air, tight and alert. Alex, too, has noticed; grief has been put aside for the moment and his fists are clenched and he's moving closer to the kids at his left, as though to protect them.

Charles reaches out with his mind but feels nothing; the teleporter is gone and hasn't brought anyone else with him. The only person he _has _brought is blocked – and Charles would know that block anywhere.

He waits, tense, but the priest drones on and nothing terrifying materializes from out of the trees. So he manages to wait out the ceremony before going to investigate. "Alex, take everyone home," he says quietly. "Hank: will you push me?"

"It's Erik. I smell him."

"I know – but he's alone. I'll talk to him."

Hank takes him to the edge of the trees and yes, there is Erik – dressed like some kind of bizarre space captain. And trailing a red cape.

One look at his face tells Charles that this is not a good time to remind him that you're supposed to show up to funerals in a plain dark suit. But he doesn't look _violent_, exactly, and so Charles speaks into Hank's mind. _If he planned to attack us he'd have done it already. I'll talk to him alone – go wait by the grave site, please._

"I don't want to leave you," Hank answers aloud. "Not with _him._"

"It's all right. Go."

Only once Hank is gone does Erik unfreeze himself. He goes down on one knee by Charles's chair and says to him, growling it from under his helmet: "Why didn't you call me?"

It is not the greeting Charles was expecting. "What?"

"Why didn't you call me!" Erik repeats, almost snarling. "I could have stopped them. I would have torn them limb from limb for daring to even _think _of violence against your school."

"Erik," Charles begins gently. This is a funeral, he plans to say. It's not the time for political speeches.

But Erik doesn't wait that long. "Or is _that _why?" he presses. "You didn't call me because you _knew_ what I would do. Because their lives – stupid, pointless human lives – are worth more to you than the lives of your own students. Is that it? It's-"

Charles silences him with a right hook. One of the handful of benefits that comes of a wheelchair is fantastic upper body strength, and Erik sprawls facefirst into the dirt. It takes him a while to rise, and when he does the growl is gone from his voice. "I shouldn't have said that," he admits quietly.

"For your information, I would do the same things for the students that you would," Charles tells him. He clears his throat but still his voice shakes. "I killed four people that night – I _killed _people, Erik – and the only reason it didn't make the news is I wiped the minds of the survivors so they had no idea what happened or who it happened to. As soon as their supervisors read their blank reports and figure out who's missing they will put two and two together, and they'll return."

Erik looked down at the ground. "Why are you telling me this? Are you going to let me come home with you? I can help defend the place. I swear they won't get near you with guns or cars again."

"No." Charles sighed. "In an all-out pitched battle over the school, people will die – humans _and _mutants. And in the long run we have no chance; we're full of children and even assuming you and I could keep any soldiers or weapons away, we have no defense against a siege." He took a long, slow breath. Spelling it out to Erik helped, and now the decision he and Hank made last night feels correct and inevitable. "We're going to have to leave. And quickly."

Erik still doesn't look up from his feet. "Fine. Then still, let me help you. With me you can save what would be most difficult to replace – I can move Cerebro with a wave of my hand."

After a long moment Charles nods. The ground is muddy and uneven and he doesn't feel like trying to navigate it alone, so he says: "Would you mind pushing me back over there? Otherwise I'll have to holler for Hank, and I hate doing that. He's not a puppy."

"Of course." Erik's voice is thick again. Safe behind the wheelchair, where he can't be seen, he finally says: "Charles, you haven't asked me to take off my helmet."

Charles doesn't know what he's supposed to say to that.

Eventually Erik manages to continue: "You could. We're not enemies."

"I know that."

"Then… then _why didn't you call me_?" he growls. "Did you think I wouldn't come? Of _course_ I would come, you know I love that place, all of you, that I would never refuse just because we… Charles, _why?_"

This is going to hurt, Charles knows, but he can't think of a persuasive lie. So he tells the truth. "You didn't even occur to me." Erik chokes but can't find words, and Charles persists gently: "We're a long time away from three years ago, Erik. Things have changed."

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><p><strong>TBC.<strong>

**Let me know what you think so far! **


	2. Chapter 2

Erik and Charles return to the manor together. Beast is driving, and snarling periodically into the rearview.

Erik, in the backseat, tries to ignore him; he and Charles have more important things to talk about. "The immediate plan is to pack up and go into hiding?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Where will you go?"

Charles and Beast exchange glances. "We don't know yet," Charles admits. "We're looking into places that could be a more permanent solution, but the immediate plan is for us to rent a house to quarter everyone in until we can find-"

"I've got a place. Take it." Charles falls silent, and Erik insists: "It's exactly what you need. Huge, secluded… _defendable._ They're practically fortresses."

"_They_?"

Erik shrugs. The last thing they need now is to argue about the wars that are looming. For now, all Charles needs to know is that there are safe places set up, waiting, for just such an occurrence as this. "I've got a few. The nearest is within driving distance. Six, maybe eight hours. We can get trucks and you'll be settled within a day."

Charles is still quiet, thinking, but Beast speaks up. "Take your helmet off, Erik."

"It's _Magneto _now, and: why?"

"Because I don't trust you. Your plan is our best option by far – but I don't trust you. First I want the professor to read your mind so that we know you're on the level."

Charles reaches out to pat the furry arm. "Hank, that's not necessary," he says… but without much certainty.

Erik is amazed by all this and by how much it hurts him. After how they'd parted ways of course he wouldn't have expected a warm welcome... but still, how can they ever even _think_ to worry that he could mean them harm?

But the important thing now is to solve this problem, and so before the hurt can transform into anger and distract him he takes his helmet off. "Go ahead, Charles – look," he says.

"Erik, I really don't think we need to do that…"

"I would rather you are sure." He slides across the backseat to sit behind Hank, and waits for Charles to turn to face him.

But Charles doesn't even need to – perhaps _his_ powers, too, have increased with time. He doesn't need to put hands to his head anymore, either; he just closes his eyes and sighs and relaxes into his seat, and Erik feels a mind pressing in on his.

_Ah, I remember this place, _Charles chuckles, and Erik prepares himself to be invaded... but then, after just a cursory once-over Charles withdraws. "I don't sense any deception, Hank," he assures. "Erik's angry about George, but not at us, and he does want to help."

Beast just grunts.

Erik settles the helmet back on his head, feeling oddly cheated, and doesn't say anything else until they reach the manor.

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><p>When they arrive he tries to throw himself straight into the work of organizing and packing up the place, but he has to field a lot of stupid questions. The most common by far is <em>why are you wearing that, <em>which eventually makes him re-think the wisdom of his uniform, at least in this company. His reason: _because I don't ever want to be mistaken for one of Them_, sounds less and less adequate each time, and before long he's wondering whether Charles still has any of his old sweatsuits lying around.

The second-most common question is _who are you,_ which he answers invariably with: _My name is Magneto and I'm an old friend of your professor's. _That one's easy.

The third-most common question is the one that hurts. It comes aloud from Sean, in cold suspicious stares from Alex, and it rolls in waves off Beast's blue fur. _What are you doing here? __**You**__._ Before long a lot of the other kids are infected with it too, because they've registered the distrust their elders have for this strangely-dressed mutant who sweeps down the hall as if he owns the place. Some have no doubt asked, and despite Charles's explicit orders to set the past aside til another day, some have no doubt been told.

One at a time Erik manages to win a few of them over anyway – girls like his manners, and boys admire his strength. He can float roomfuls of furniture down the hall without even looking, he is neat and efficient, he doesn't ask anything of anyone but that they do what he tells them.

Charles, on the other hand, is mooning and sighing and needy. He gets hugs and pats on the shoulder from nearly everyone who passes him. It's sentimentality they don't have time for, and so Erik unceremoniously floats him outside and orders him to start supervising the packing of the trucks.

"This is my home," he says, perhaps to explain why he's suddenly lost his ability to boss around everything that moves.

"You'll get it back," Erik promises, and then jumps at the feel of a hand on his. He looks down and discovers that he has somehow been squeezing Charles's shoulder. He pulls free and hurries off, throwing himself back into the packing.

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><p><strong>TBC.<strong>

**I think moving into Chez Erik is going to be really interesting. Let me know what you guys think so far!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I was hoping to get to the nutty secretagenty plotting this chapter, but Erik and Charles are still taking a while to get used to each other again. Sorry! Next chapter we get into that stuff. **

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><p>"Let's go," Charles says, looking resolutely out the wrong window. "Drive."<p>

Erik stirs in the seat behind him but apparently thinks better of speaking up. They drive, silently. Charles notes that the girl is not a bad driver, and decides she can be added to the list of people permitted to drive the school cars in the future.

Provided the school _has _a future.

They've been on the road an hour when she breaks the silence. "Do you need to call ahead or something?" she asks into the rearview. "We're going to get there in the middle of the night. I hate to bust in on people who aren't expecting us…"

"It's my base; I can bust in whenever I want," Erik declares.

How like him. "Well haven't you got anybody who's going to worry that you haven't come home?" Charles asks. He swallows, makes himself say it. "What about Raven? Is she still...?"

With that helmet on Erik can't possibly be picking up on any stray bursts of hope or pain he may be leaking, but still, maybe it's there in his voice. Because Erik answers right away: "Pull off at the next exit and get me to a telephone, and she'll be waiting for us when we arrive."

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><p>They're there. At last. As they drive up through the gates Charles is plastered to the window trying to take it all in. "<em>Borco<em>?" He reads the sign aloud.

Erik chuckles. "We thought a big complex with an electric fence would be a bit conspicuous, so we've disguised it as a corporate headquarters," he explains. "Our fictitious enterprise is named Borco, short for _Boring Company, _at Mystique's insistence – after I vetoed her more… colorful suggestions."

They head up the drive and can see that she is already waiting, on the front steps. Erik hops out and greets her quickly; he doesn't want to be in the way once-...

"Charles." She breathes it. In a heartbeat all the strength and confidence have gone out of her; Erik notes that he was _right_ to believe Charles holds her back and keeps her down. He tells himself he's right to have suggested – strongly – that she stay away from him all this time.

Charles's eyes are growing moist and his voice is unsteady. "Hello, Raven. It's good to see you."

She draws herself up suddenly, her yellow eyes flashing, and backs against Erik as though for support. "My name is Mystique now."

Erik is torn between adoring her for her loyalty, and wanting to strangle her for being such a cold-hearted bitch. Charles cared for this girl like a sister for so many years; it must _kill _him to hear her disavow their bond now. Maybe he should speak up.

But it seems Charles can take care of himself where Mystique is concerned – he blinks and then repeats, a bit more firmly: "Hello, Raven. It's good to see you."

She glares for a moment. Then she dives at him and throws her arms around his neck. "You're an ass, Charles. You're still an ass, you're an ass, you're a bigger ass than ever." It's hardly intelligible because her face is buried in his shoulder. She pulls away long enough to kiss his neck, and then squeezes him tight again.

Much as he didn't like the idea that they might _not _share a warm greeting, Erik is now discovering that he likes the idea that they _are _sharing a warm greeting even less. She is out-and-out blubbering and she can't let go. He wonders: if she still needs Charles this much after all this time, what kind of care has he been taking of her? How has he gone wrong?

"Hey." The girl who drove nudges him. "Let's wait for them inside."

Erik follows her and waits, restless, for the reunion to be over. When the door finally opens he discovers with some dismay that Mystique has reverted to her old disguise, the pouty blonde, and is trying to simultaneously push Charles's wheelchair and ruffle his hair. "Come on," she says, brightly even though her cheeks are still wet. "Time for the tour."

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><p>Charles is impressed. The building is considerably larger than his manor. The ground floor, which is home to what looks like meeting rooms and training rooms, is modern and functional. Fortunately there are a few touches here and there – likely courtesy of Raven – that save it from looking like a villain's spaceship. The hallway lighting is multicolored, and framed pictures of bands and cartoon characters grace some of the walls.<p>

"This was all Mystique's doing," Erik grumbles, confirming his suspicions. "She did the second floor also – and that's got the dormitories where the kids can sleep. But the third floor is the _real _living quarters, and it's probably more to your taste. I'll show you. This way – we have an elevator."

The third floor is more classical, hard wood and carpets, and Charles tells him it's beautiful. Then it occurs to him to wonder: "Erik, how did you pay for all this – if you don't mind my asking?"

Erik turns cold at once. "Legally, if that's what you mean."

"It's not." Charles reaches out and snags his cape, tripping him up to make him turn around. "I just meant I always thought you were rather… well…"

"Penniless?" Erik shrugs. "I was. But it turns out I can break a casino in about four hours. I did that for a few weekends, and then I thought to clean out all of Shaw's accounts too – at least the ones his people would tell me about. I sold some of his more pointless and expensive possessions, like his _four_ nuclear reactors… and now I've got someone managing the treasury and she tells me I'm fine for a while – even at the astronomical rate I've been spending. Here – this is your room."

They stop in front of a door which is decorated with a hammered copper panel. Erik sweeps his hand over it and molds it into a new design: a big raised X. Charles laughs. "Beautiful."

"Mine's down the hall."

"A door marked _M_, by any chance?"

"No." Even with the helmet blocking his view he can hear that Erik is smiling. "It's got my whole name; Mystique and I fought over the initial and finally decided nobody should have it."

Charles is still amused when the door opens. He likes the room; it's big and easy to maneuver in. And once he checks out the attached bathroom he realizes that that's no accident. He backs out and turns to face Erik. "Grab bars?" is all he says.

"Among other amenities. I hoped that one day we'd be on visiting terms with each other." Erik's voice is completely unreadable. And the helmet not only eliminates the possibility of telepathy, but also combines with the height difference to make eye contact very difficult.

Charles is flying completely blind. It's a new feeling, and he doesn't like it. "I… should probably go help Hank settle the children in." It's true, anyway.

"Of course." _That _he can read; Erik sounds surprised and a little affronted. "You know the way. Mi casa su casa – and Charles, if you're still as big an insomniac as you were, there's a sitting room between my suite and yours. It's got a chess board. Wake me any time."

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><p><strong>TBC.<strong>

**My theory on Erik's apparent failure to move on** is that he tends to fixate and he doesn't have many friends. (I think he sees Mystique as more of a protege than a friend). Charles is therefore The One That Got Away as far as his interpersonal relationships are concerned, but give him time. He'll adjust.


End file.
